The price of freedom by Sharon J Clark

She sat, back straight, legs together and neatly slanted to the right. Her mother had drilled a number of habits into her as a child, coldly informing her that people could tell a great deal from how a young woman sat or walked. “Mr Mansell,” she said with more confidence than she felt. “I have invested a great deal into this appointment. I would prefer you to look beyond the stereotypical choices suggested by the data you are studying.”